The story so far:

Perhaps Abby lives to remind us that every child is loved. My wife looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said. "I will always love Michael with all of my heart, and I will miss him until the day I die. But, my love, life is for the living, and Michael is no longer alive. He is an angel laughing and loving those who are now by his side." I had never felt so much love for this woman -- the mother of my children -- my bride.

Wrapped in the pink blanket was our precious daughter. She was indeed alive. So small, so precious -- she will not meet her brother, but - oh - she will know of him. I will make sure of this.

I hugged my wife and I kissed my child. I felt so grateful for this moment, and I recognized, beyond the fog of alcohol, that everthing was going to be alright. My son was in a better place, and I will grieve every night when I think of him. But I must go on for my wife, my Abby and me. I will celebrate my fortune not by counting money, but by celebrating Michael's short life and the life of my daughter. I will toast her birthdays and revel on her graduation day. I will weep at her wedding and welcome the day I hear the word 'grampy'. I will live, because accepting life is accepting that we are born, we live, and we must die. There is no......